It wasn’t the best of times, nor the worst of times, actually it was more the most boring of times. At least, it was by the standards of one particular man named Miguel. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy, for he continuously told himself he was, no, it was just that he was simply bored. The endless nights of studying and theorizing in college were gone, and for the past two years what had he done with his degree in theology? Absolutely nothing. He was working a boring job, in a boring apartment with a boring routine and no love life, boring or otherwise. In fact, one could say the only thing in Miguel’s life not boring was his art.

It was modern, it was classic, it was moving, it was beautiful, yet all of it, exclusively private. He painted, sculpted, and sketched all through the nights creating masterpieces worthy of museums. The only evidence of his life’s work was a touch of paint about the cuticles of his fingers, or the bit of clay powder in his hair. This entire separate world that was not boring, was hidden away, all but nonexistent to everyone. That is, everyone except to the girl next door.

The day was beautiful, or at least it was until stepping outside. The sun was shining, and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen, but in the throes of winter, cloudless means colder than usual. On this cloudless day there was also a wind about, bringing the overall temperature to a toasty -2 degrees Fahrenheit. When one has to walk to work, this isn’t the most favorable of conditions. It isn’t surprising, then, when Miguel chose this morning to call in sick to work. He wasn’t sick, but something had struck him that morning and he was bound and determined not to leave home for anything, save his ritual theft of a neighbor’s comics section of the newspaper. If he or the comics were missed, no one ever complained.

He was just going to get himself a cup of coffee when there was a quiet knock on the door. He hadn’t heard the buzzer so he knew it was a tenant but what could any of them want, especially since he was supposed to be at work now anyway? Whoever it was knocked again, this time with a little more oomph. He yelled, “Just a minute!” as he scrambled to get some pants on and open the door at the same time.

When he finally succeeded in both dressing and opening the door, he was confused to see a girl he’d never seen before. She was young, probably a year younger than he was, with the wide-eyed, fresh-out-of-college look about her. They stared at each other for a minute before both trying talk at once. After another awkward minute, Miguel managed let the girl speak. “Um, sorry, but I’m looking for my cat, Pickles.” She held up a picture of a black and white ball of fluff curled up on a couch. “She’s been missing for two days now and I’m worried.” Now, he knew for a fact that pets of any kind were not allowed in the apartments. Either she was a new tenant who hadn’t read the rules, simply had no regard for them, or she didn’t live here at all.

“Well, I haven’t seen any cats around here, love, but I’ll let you know if I see one, ‘kay?” He really didn’t know what else to say, he wasn’t really good with meeting new people.

“Oh, well, that’s okay. If you do her, though, let me know? I live right there.” She pointed to the door of the apartment next to his. Miguel hadn’t even heard the young couple who used to live there had moved out, much less that someone new had moved in.

“Yeah, sure, of course I will, um…” he couldn’t remember if she’d told him her name or not.

“Oh, I’m sorry, how stupid of me, I’m Rachael.” she held her hand out to shake. He took it firmly.

“I’m Miguel, it was nice meeting you.” Rachael smiled shyly and headed back to her apartment. “Hope you find your cat!” he said at the last minute, before she disappeared behind her door. She said something in response that could have been a “thank you” but he wasn’t sure. Deciding that had been sufficiently awkward for a Monday morning, he went in to make that cup of coffee.